


shelter comes in words from you (so talk to me)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Sickfic, soup is something that can be so personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 12:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Nikolaj wakes up feverish and sick, but he'll be fine. He's just going to wait it out.Patrik has other ideas.(patrik is pretty good at taking care of him, though.)
Relationships: Nikolaj Ehlers/Patrik Laine
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	shelter comes in words from you (so talk to me)

**Author's Note:**

> hey i'm back! this is my repentance for my earlier crimes. sorry again for that by the way. yeesh.
> 
> anyway this is DUMB and SOFT so thanks to anon who slid into my ask box with "patrik takes care of nikolaj when he is really sick and fluffiness ensues when patrik is not impressed that nikolaj was trying to hide this from him" last night. i appreciate the Enabling!
> 
> and oh boy. did the fluffiness ever Ensue. perhaps the first thing i've written without angst (unless you count being sick as Angst but. i do not!)
> 
> title from "northern lights" by renaissance

Nikolaj wakes up sweating. 

He feels disgusting for about half a second, then he notices he can’t really breathe. He sniffles and groans pathetically at the ache in his head. He paws around for his phone, desperate for the beeping alarm to be silent.

“Ugh,” he croaks. Everything feels stiff and achy, but he manages to roll out of bed to stumble across the hall to the bathroom.

His reflection makes him wince. His hair is tangled and sweaty, his face pale except for two bright spots of red on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. Even the simple act of bending down to splash cold water on his face makes him feel dizzy.

He braces a hand against the porcelain and presses the back of his other hand to his forehead. Definitely a fever. He pours a glass of cold water, drains it and fills it again before shuffling back to bed.

The light of his phone screen makes his head pound, but he calls in to let Maurice know he won’t be able to come to practice today. Maurice sounds sympathetic, which is a little alarming. Nikolaj must sound awfully pathetic.

Well, he certainly _ feels _ pathetic. As soon as the call ends, Nikolaj pulls his comforter up to his chin and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t manage to sleep for very long, waking up a couple hours later with late-morning sunshine bright even through his curtains.

Somehow, he feels even worse now than he did when he first woke up. His throat feels scratchy, his head hurts, his skin is burning up and he can’t breathe through his nose.

Nikolaj wallows in his misery.

He’s trying to work up the strength to drag himself to the shower when his phone buzzes with an incoming call. It better be good. He reaches over to the nightstand and swipes to accept, hoping it’s not a telemarketer.

“H’lo,” Nikolaj rasps. He coughs, curling up in a ball to stave off the pain in his chest. “Ow.”

“Uh,” Patrik says. “Are you okay?"

Nikolaj takes a moment to appreciate how dumb Patrik can be sometimes. “Yes,” he says finally, his voice still sounding like he swallowed, like, a cheese grater, “I’m fine.”

Patrik sighs. “Nikolaj,” he says patiently.

“I’m fine,” Nikolaj repeats. He hacks out another cough. “Um. I’ll be fine. Soon.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Patrik asks. There’s a sound on the other end like he’s getting into his car. Practice must have just ended.

Nikolaj ignores the warm feeling in his chest that has nothing to do with his fever. “I said I’m okay.” Nikolaj sniffs. “I’m, uh, making soup?” He cringes at the way that came out as a question.

Patrik’s silence says more than words. “Uh huh,” he says finally. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Patrik—” It’s no use. The line is already dead. “Fuck,” Nikolaj says, dropping his phone into the blankets and scowling. His outrage doesn’t last long, another coughing fit taking him over until he’s gasping for air.

Sometimes, Patrik is too stubborn for his own good.

Nikolaj wallows in his own blankets and waits for Patrik to arrive. He’s tempted to go back to sleep, knowing he shouldn’t let Patrik near him when he’s sick like this. On the other hand, though. It’s _ Patrik. _

It’s not long before there’s a knock at the door. Nikolaj drags himself out of his room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and trailing on the floor behind him. He leans against the doorframe and frowns up at Patrik, hoping his displeasure is obvious.

Instead of looking chastened, Patrik’s amused expression softens. “Aw, Fly,” he says.

Nikolaj hopes his flush can pass for his fever. He doesn’t bother replying. He sniffles glumly and lets Patrik step inside.

Patrik takes off his shoes and jacket before taking Nikolaj under his arm and walking him back to his bedroom.

“What have you done today?” Patrik asks.

Nikolaj sits on the edge of his bed and closes his eyes, swaying back and forth a little. “I had some water,” he mumbles. “Um. That’s it.” He jumps at the touch of Patrik’s hand to his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Patrik says. He’s frowning when Nikolaj opens his eyes. “Come on.”

Obediently, Nikolaj follows Patrik to the bathroom and waits expectantly for whatever Patrik has planned. Patrik points at the shower. 

“Clean up,” he says sternly. “It won’t help if you’re just, like.” He pauses and frowns, the expression he gets when he’s not sure of his English. “Soaking in your sickness,” he finishes. He tugs the blanket away from Nikolaj and turns to leave the bathroom. “Make sure you brush your teeth,” he says, and closes the door behind him.

Nikolaj stares at the door for a long moment, not moving. Eventually he strips off his T-shirt and pajama pants while the water warms up. 

It’s kind of funny, Nikolaj thinks while he scrubs shampoo into his hair. Patrik’s grown up.

Nikolaj has to admit to himself that he does feel much better once he’s washed off the sweat and his mouth no longer tastes like something died in it. He ties the towel around his waist and goes back to his room to get dressed.

Patrik is fluffing one of his pillows when he steps into the room.

“Um,” Nikolaj says.

“I changed your blankets,” Patrik says. His ears look a little pink, but Nikolaj isn’t going to think too hard about that right now. “Here, let me—”

Then Patrik’s right in front of him, taking the bundle of Nikolaj’s clothing from him. Nikolaj looks up at him, feeling something flutter in his chest at the way Patrik has to look down to meet his eyes, the way Patrik is dressed in jeans and a sweater while Nikolaj is practically naked.

He tightens his hand around the towel. “Patrik—”

“I’ll wash this for you,” Patrik says. He touches Nikolaj lightly on the shoulder when he passes and Nikolaj shivers.

Nikolaj shakes himself off, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and pulling them on. He doesn’t bother with a shirt before he crawls back into bed. 

The sheets are cool and soft against his overheated skin, and it doesn’t take more than a minute for him to doze off again. 

Something cold on his face wakes him up and he blinks his eyes open. Patrik is sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him with a focused look in his eyes. There’s a thin towel in his hand with one of Nikolaj’s ice packs wrapped in it. It feels amazing against his hot skin. He sighs softly when Patrik’s fingertips, cool from the ice, brush over his hair by accident. 

“Thanks, Patty.” His voice is barely a croak, but Patrik smiles at him crookedly. 

“Can you hold this yourself for a minute?” Patrik asks.

Nikolaj takes the bundle, keeping it pressed against his face while Patrik stands up and leaves the room. He’s walking a little stiffly, like he’d been sitting there for a while. 

Patrik is gone a little longer than _ a minute, _but Nikolaj’s grasp on the passage of time is kind of fuzzy right now. He’s drifting somewhere between awake and asleep when Patrik comes back into the room and nudges his shoulder.

“Get up,” he says, but his voice is gentle. 

“Don’t wanna,” Nikolaj grumbles. He coughs and turns his face into the pillow. The ice pack pokes him in the cheek. 

“Niky,” Patrik says. There’s a laugh somewhere in his voice. One of his hands lands in Nikolaj’s hair and he scratches lightly over his scalp. “You can’t stay in bed all day.”

Nikolaj really hopes Patrik thinks his shiver is because he’s got ice in his face. “I can try,” he says, muffled into his pillow. 

Patrik tugs a little at his hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get Nikolaj’s attention. “Get up,” he repeats. His voice is sterner now.

Nikolaj grumbles a little more, but he eventually pushes back the blankets and sits up. His head swims and he has to squeeze his eyes shut so the room stops spinning. Patrik’s hands rest on his bare shoulders to steady him.

“Hey,” Patrik says, “you only have to get up for a few minutes, okay? Then you can go back to sleep. Promise.”

Nikolaj nods slowly. He lets Patrik wrap a blanket around his shoulders and help him stand. He shuffles out of his room, Patrik guiding him with a hand between his shoulder blades. He can feel its warmth even through his fluffy blanket.

All the lights are off in the apartment and the curtains are drawn. Nikolaj feels a surge of gratitude and he leans against Patrik’s side for a second in thanks. 

Patrik makes him sit on the couch, then he goes to the kitchen. 

He’s carrying a tray Nikolaj didn’t even know he owned when he comes back. There are two bowls and a mug balanced on it, steam rising from all of them. Patrik sets it down on the coffee table and gives one of the bowls to Nikolaj. 

Their fingers brush when Nikolaj takes it.

Patrik takes the other bowl and sits next to him. They’re not quite close enough to touch, but Nikolaj could move over an inch and they’d be pressed together from shoulder to thigh. 

Or shoulder and bicep to thigh, Nikolaj corrects. Patrik’s shoulder is a little higher than his, even when they’re slumped into the couch cushions.

He doesn’t move, instead focusing on eating his chicken noodle soup. Patrik’s eating some, too, presumably out of solidarity. The soup is good—it’s not the usual packaged stuff, and the hot broth feels nice to his ravaged throat.

Patrik takes the bowl from him when he’s done and replaces it with the mug. “Drink all of it,” he says, bossy as usual.

Nikolaj takes a deep breath of lemon scented steam and takes a careful sip. He’s never been a huge fan of tea, but he drinks all of it. The warmth that spreads in his belly when he’s done is probably not because of the tea alone.

Patrik takes the tray back to the kitchen with their dirty dishes. Nikolaj can hear the soft sounds of running water and clinking cutlery, and he tips over to rest his cheek against the arm of the couch and closes his eyes. He’ll just rest his eyes for a minute, that’s all.

The sensation of being jostled wakes him up part way, and he squints at Patrik in confusion. “Wha—” he says, his voice hoarse.

Patrik hushes him, then wraps an arm under his back and beneath his knees before straightening up with Nikolaj in his arms. 

Nikolaj is still wrapped tightly in his blanket, so he can’t hold on. It’s not like he needs to, though. Patrik would never drop him. He tilts his head against Patrik’s chest and lets his eyes fall shut.

He’s still not quite asleep when Patrik puts him to bed, but he keeps his eyes closed anyway. He rubs his cheek against the pillow and hides his smile when Patrik pulls the comforter over him. 

Patrik brushes his fingers over Nikolaj’s cheek by accident when he’s done smoothing out the blanket. “Cough if you need me,” Patrik says, laughing quietly when Nikolaj tries to stifle a coughing fit. Nikolaj squints up at him blearily.

Before Patrik can leave, Nikolaj’s hand darts out to catch his wrist. Patrik freezes and turns back.

“Patrik.” Nikolaj keeps his voice to a whisper, not wanting to aggravate his throat any further. “I—” He hesitates, struggling to find the words. “Thank you,” he settles on. 

Patrik twists his hand around to curl his fingers around Nikolaj’s and give them a gentle squeeze. “Of course,” he says, his voice unusually serious. “Always.”

Nikolaj’s hand slips out of his and he’s asleep before he can point out that Patrik won’t always be able to be with him like this.

It’s dark the next time he wakes up. That’s the only thing he has a chance to notice before he starts coughing hard enough that he tastes iron in the back of his throat. He shudders, suddenly freezing despite his blankets.

Nikolaj curls tighter into himself, whimpering at the pounding ache in his head. He can’t stop shivering. He doesn’t know the last time he felt this cold and his head is so muddled that he can’t think straight.

A shadow appears in his doorway—Patrik. Nikolaj watches, body wracked by shivers, as Patrik drops his belt and kicks off his jeans before he climbs into the bed behind Nikolaj. He urges Nikolaj to roll over and tugs him close.

Nikolaj pushes his head under Patrik’s chin and winds his arms around Patrik’s waist. His blanket wraps around both of them, so Patrik slides his hands under it to get his warm hands on Nikolaj’s back. He rubs gentle circles there until Nikolaj’s breathing is mostly even and he’s stopped shaking.

Patrik starts to pull away and Nikolaj lets out a humiliating noise and clutches at Patrik’s sweater. 

“Niky—”

“Stay,” Nikolaj says, a pleading note in his voice. “Please.”

Patrik settles back against him carefully. “Are you sure?” he asks, but his arms are already around Nikolaj. His touch is comfortable, sure, like his body is certain even if his heart isn’t. 

Nikolaj tucks his face back into the crook of Patrik’s neck. He can smell Patrik’s soap and laundry detergent mixed with the smell of his own. His heart flutters and he fists his hands in the back of Patrik’s sweater. “I’m sure,” he whispers.

He dreams that he feels Patrik press a kiss to his hair.

Patrik is still holding him when he wakes up. He’s fallen asleep, too, his blond hair messy on the pillow. His face is soft in sleep, and Nikolaj can’t stop himself from reaching up to touch his cheek. Patrik’s nose scrunches and he blinks awake, pale eyelashes fluttering. Nikolaj withdraws his hand.

He smiles softly at Nikolaj. “How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Like shit,” Nikolaj admits, and they both laugh a little. “You’re gonna get sick too, probably.”

Patrik shrugs. “Worth it,” he says, then, “you’ll just have to take care of me.” 

_ Worth it? _Nikolaj doesn’t know exactly what that means, but he’s starting to wonder—

“Come on, let’s have supper,” Patrik says. He rolls away from Nikolaj and gets up. 

Nikolaj remembers very abruptly that Patrik isn’t wearing pants. He tears his gaze away from Patrik’s thighs, the shift of his thigh muscles obvious even through his boxers, and gets up himself. Patrik puts his pants back on and goes out to the kitchen.

Nikolaj drinks the water that he’d left on his nightstand before shuffling down the hall. 

Patrik is in the kitchen, his hair rumpled on one side from where his head had been resting on the pillow. 

“I’m making you more soup,” Patrik says, glancing over his shoulder to see Nikolaj with his blanket around his shoulders. 

Nikolaj nods slowly. Instead of going to sit on the couch, though, he steps into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Patrik. He presses his forehead between Patrik’s shoulder blades and sighs.

“Nik?” Patrik says, confused. He turns around, so Nikolaj just pushes his face against Patrik’s chest. “What’s—”

“Shush,” Nikolaj mumbles. “This is important.” He takes a deep breath in—through his mouth. “I want to thank you for—for everything. Without you, I would’ve spent all day in bed being miserable, probably.”

“I wasn’t going to let you be sick alone,” Patrik says.

“I’m not done,” Nikolaj snaps. He turns his face away to cough. “It means a lot to me, okay, and I know you might not get it, but it’s because I like you, um, a lot.”

“Nikolaj,” Patrik says slowly. He’s not pulling away. Actually, his hands come up to rest on Nikolaj’s lower back.

“No,” Nikolaj interrupts. “I want—I should tell you everything.” He pulls away enough to meet Patrik’s eyes. “I’m in love with you,” he says.

“Oh,” Patrik says softly. He cups Nikolaj’s cheeks and kisses his forehead.

That probably wasn’t a dream earlier, was it, Nikolaj realizes.

“Patty, do you—” Nikolaj can hardly breathe and it’s not just because he’s congested.

“I do,” Patrik murmurs. “I love you.”

Nikolaj giggles, almost delirious between his fever and his happiness, but then Patrik swears and spins around, fumbling with the stove and the pots. 

Both of them cast a wary eye towards the smoke detector, but it stays silent.

“That was close,” Patrik says. He grins crookedly at Nikolaj before taking a step closer. “Hey,” he says, cupping Nikolaj’s face again, “considering that I’m probably already going to get sick anyways, can I kiss you?”

Nikolaj’s face heats. This time it’s _ definitely _ not because of his fever. “Yeah,” he breathes. 

For a second, Patrik just looks at his face. Then he leans down and kisses him softly. 

The kiss is gentle and slow, Patrik’s hands big and warm on Nikolaj’s face the whole time. 

Nikolaj has to pull away to catch his breath, but he keeps his forehead against Patrik’s and nudges their noses together. 

“How do you feel?” Patrik asks. He kisses the tip of Nikolaj’s nose, making him smile. 

“I still feel like I’m dying,” Nikolaj says, his hoarse voice evidence of that. His smile widens and he presses his thumb to Patrik’s lips. “I think I’m okay with that now, though,” he teases. 

Their laughter is interrupted by Nikolaj’s coughing and Patrik bullies him onto the couch before returning to the kitchen to get the soup.

Nikolaj leans into Patrik’s side when he comes to sit down. He stretches up enough to kiss Patrik’s cheek, grinning at the way Patrik’s ears turn pink. He takes his bowl and spoon, and snuggles closer against Patrik with a sniffle. 

He’s looking forward to getting used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> the scene where nikolaj has the chills based on a real life experience of me (feverish, dying of appendicitis at age ten) was shivering so violently that my father sensed it and had to come Hug me until i stopped feeling like i was gonna die. classic!
> 
> anyway everyone who threatened me with bodily harm and/or murder after what i Did on wednesday: please forgive me now
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/symphony7inAmaj)
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


End file.
